The Most Beautiful Chaos
by QuicksilverAni
Summary: This is a series of stand alone oneshots that are inspired by songs. The title of each oneshot will be the name of the song that inspired it. Some of the stories will be nothing more than my view of events, or characters, some will be non-cannon, and some will be attempts at retelling my interpretation of certain events.


**The Beauty and The Tragedy**

_"For I am finding out that love will kill, and save me." –Trading Yesterday._

There was a distant sensation of shock, as Snape's memories invaded Harry's mind and filled in the many gaps in his understanding of this, the Last Battle. He felt himself absorb it like a physical blow, before his mind shut down the pain, and his acceptance washed over him like sunlight, illuminating the path his feet had been set on for years.

There was terror, almost overwhelming as it flowed through every nerve ending, filled every drop of his blood as his body reacted strongly against the idea of his death. A harsh, broken chuckle escaped his painfully tight throat, and he spoke aloud to the empty room, "This would be so much easier if I didn't have to think about it, if it was just a split second, if I was saving someone."

A quiet ache that was next to nothing echoed in response to Dumbledore's cold and calculating betrayal and it was pushed aside in an instant as Harry relished what the weight of a body was. Taking a moment to himself, he reveled in being alive; knowing that all too soon his love for the people around him would bring him to his death.

First he focused on his feet, and all the many miles they've covered in his life. These feet had spent so much time running, he reflected in a strange sense of amusement, running towards this moment when now he wanted to drag his feet. His mind was filled with flashes of memories, running towards battles, his need for revenge and his need to protect constantly warring inside him. He smiled at the many moments of his life where he was running towards his friends, or alongside them, or of the ease of walking through lazy summer days at the Burrow.

His mind was distracted from this train of thought as a cramp made itself known in his leg, too long in an awkward position. Shifting his body to a more comfortable space, he allowed his eyes to wander over the cuts and scrapes that covered his two long legs. The picture of Ginny's head in his lap filled his mind's eyes, and Hermione leaning against them with a large book in her own lap; Ron kicking him in the shin, or skipping back away from one of Hagrid's dangerous creatures as it took a swipe. All the hours spent on a broom, or a Thestral, or Buckbeak for that matter, how his legs helped to steer him through moments he wouldn't surrender for the world, even if they were making it a little harder to stand up, to get about the business of dying.

Harry heaved himself to his feet, and the burn in his chest caught his attention, more memories of life flooding him to the brim. Hermione's first hug, the first he could ever recall getting, the first that felt like it was filled with love. His laugh was broken, as he recalled her bushy brown hair obscuring his sight in that first life changing hug, and the many times since then she had collided with him, to wrap her arms around him and hold him, her tears had soaked his skin, her love was imprinted on his arms. Her breath had filled his pores and he would always know the scent of her skin and hair. It would be impossible to ever forget the feel of her hand in his, or the way she would play with his hair, trying to make it do something different. In that moment the love he felt for that bright, loving, brave witch filled him with resolve. She had risked her life for him more times than he could count, and he could save her forever.

As memories of those he loved dearest started to fill him up, he found it easier to take the first step.

There was Ron, too. All the hugs, the punches exchanged in a manly fashion when words would do no good; the mixture of awe and envy that overtook the boy-turned-man so many times during their friendship, for Harry. There was bravery and loyalty and courage in Ron that a lot of people didn't see, because they just saw Harry's best mate. They didn't see the brilliance he commanded easily for strategy, they didn't see the courage it took to keep pace with the life of the Boy-Who-Lived. Ron's brotherly love was woven into every strand of Harry's life now. There was no Harry without the boy who gave him a family for the first time. There would be no Boy-Who-Lived without the support of the Ron Weasley, a champion of Hogwarts.

_Oh, _Harry thought to himself, _I hadn't expected this. I hadn't expected to think like this. I thought all I'd be able to think about was dying, or how Dumbledore lied. _

Before he could dwell overlong on such thoughts, Ginny invaded his mind, with her temper, her wit, her loyalty and strength. The only daughter, the only sister, the baby, she had to forge her strength and courage against the rocks of her brothers, the overprotective nature of her parents who treasured her. It was a different shape entirely from Ron or Hermione.

Loony, lovely Luna and Neville converged upon his senses as one, as his feet echoed dully through his ears, walking towards his demise. Her sweet strangeness, filled with a wisdom he'd never really grasp now, he wouldn't have the chance, really, and the picture she'd painted so lovingly, so painstakingly in her room. Friends. The golden chain made from that word swam in his eyes, as if it were right in front of him. Neville was there as well, a brave boy who only needed to find himself to really shine. Part of Harry's mind waited for the bitterness to come, for him to resent Neville for not being chosen for this. But it didn't come. In its place came a fondness for the boy who had come into his own, leading the last of the D.A. towards resisting evil, and cruelty.

Harry found himself in the Great Hall. He didn't want to say goodbye to anyone, didn't want to burden them with the knowledge that still weighed heavy on his heart, like a stone someone had placed upon his chest.

His eyes took in everything. Every face devoid of life, every face filled with grief, and Harry felt a swell of love for all of them.

There, Remus and Tonks lay side by side, as if sleeping. And there, the Weasley clan huddled around the still body of Fred.

The bits of memories, the faces of beloved friends were coming ever faster, until they almost blurred together. Hagrid who took him away from a life of mundane torture to a world he never could have dreamed of, who had looked out for him and loved him, who had never failed him once in his years here. Remus who had given Harry courage when he thought he had none left, who taught him the power of his own memories. Sirius had come like an unexpected answer to a prayer of Harry's heart, one he hadn't even known he'd made. Sirius loved him without any reservations; who had died for him, with love shining in his eyes; who wanted nothing more than to give Harry a home and a family.

Each Weasley flashed through his mind, steady and calm Mr. Weasley, fierce and loving Mrs. Weasley, Bill who he'd only known briefly but who had a quiet strength about him, Charlie who was like fire, Percy who was a git but loved his family enough to admit his faults when it mattered most, Fred who would never pull a prank again but was part of George so he wasn't fully gone. Because George would keep on laughing, keep on pranking, he would have to. The world needed to laugh, and that was what the twins had been good at, and Fred would never want laughter to die.

Hauling himself forward, fueled by the faces of those he loved best, Harry made it out the doors, and as his senses were swamped by cool fresh air, the scent of grass crushed underfoot he let his mind turn towards those he loved and never knew. His father, cut down too soon, a man brave and clever and where once Harry had idolized him as perfect, he now saw him as human, and somehow this made him all the more precious. Human and fallible, James and Lily both; though, if he was perfectly fair, everyone seemed to agree that James was the more fallible of the two. Lily, his mother, who was lovely and kind and so very smart, had thrown herself in front of the curse that was meant for him.

He was going to die. His story was going to come to a close.

Close…

The Snitch! He fumbled for it, his body feeling clumsy and untried, before holding it aloft, his eyes drinking in the sight of the golden orb.

Pressing it against his lips, like the whisper of a kiss to seal his fate, he whispered, "I am ready to die."

With the faintest of clicks, the metal shell broke open, revealing a small black stone, etched with the symbol of the Deathly Hallows.

Closing his eyes felt like a chore, dragging shut his lids; he turned the stone over in his hand three times.

The faint noises of unsubstantial bodies shifting assaulted his ears in this almost painful silence he'd grown used to. Harry opened his eyes and drank in the not-quite-flesh faces that were around him.

There, James, his father. He stood as if he had always been there, the same height as Harry, the same messy hair that wouldn't behave for love or money, glasses that sat crookedly on his face, his wonderful face.

Sirius was there as well, a tiny jolt that Harry hadn't expected came as he realized he looked younger than Harry could remember seeing him. Tall and darkly handsome, he moved with an easy grace, an authority that came from confidence, his hands in his pocket, a relaxed grin gracing his features.

Lupin was younger too, an ease about him now that he had never had in life. He was much less shabby, his hair was darker and thicker, and his smile wide and easy.

And then, there. Lily, his mother, her smile wide and loving; her eyes, so like his own, devoured his features, hungrily taking in everything about him, her eyes shining.

"You've been so brave, darling."

Harry didn't respond, in fact he found he couldn't, he was too busy letting his eyes take in everything about the four people in front of him. He felt like he could look at her forever, like he would be happy to never take his eyes off his face.

James stepped next to her, his smile wide, "You are so very nearly there, son," he said in a voice similar to his own, "You're very close. We are so…so very proud of you, Harry."

"Does it hurt?"

The childish question fell, trembling, from his lips before he could find his strength again, before he could force himself to appear strong.

Sirius was the one to answer him, his voice gentle and full of love and pride, "No, Harry. It's quicker and easier than falling asleep."

Lupin smiled, "It will be quick, Harry. He'll want it to be quick, to end it."

This was almost too much for Harry, the pain at seeing them mixed with the absolute relief.

"I didn't want this. I didn't want any of you to die, not for me. I'm so sorry," Harry said, "I'm so sorry."

These words came with the force of years behind them, unbidden.

"Right after you'd had your son too, Remus, this took you from your son…"

"I am sorry too," said Lupin with a calm Harry didn't share, "I am sorry I will not get to know him. But there are others who will love him, and tell him what his mother and father died for. We did this for him, most of all, to give him a world in which he could live happily and free from this terror. There will be people who will tell him he was our greatest pride, and our greatest love."

Harry's eyes sought out Sirius once more, intent on apologizing for his rash behavior that had led to the loss of this life. Before he could open his mouth though, Sirius shook his head, "Don't apologize, Harry. You filled my life with more joy than I thought possible after Azkaban, you took the tragedy of my life and made it heroic. I died to save you, and I would not take that back for anything. Having known you, how could I not love you like my own?"

Harry felt the burn of tears for the first time since he ventured into Snape's memories, but the breeze that arose from the heart of the forest was chilled and dried the tears before the fell.

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked around at the faces of people who lived and died for him, for the end of an evil that had broken so many good things. He knew, in the way he knew how to fly, that they wouldn't tell him to go, to hurry. They would let him make this choice; that it had to be his own decision.

"You'll stay with me?"

The pleading in his own voice was unmistakable to Harry's ears. And while there was a part of him that dearly wanted to drive out this weakness, there was a part of him that was so relieved to be able to lean on their courage for a moment that he couldn't even want to take back the question.

"Until the very end," said James, who straightened in an unconscious gesture of pride and resolve.

"And they won't be able to see you?" Harry asked, a bit of trepidation in his voice.

"We are a part of you," said Sirius, quiet and unafraid. "Invisible to anyone else."

Harry took another deep breath. He couldn't seem to get enough of the sensation of breathing; he couldn't help but crave the feeling of air sliding through to his lungs.

"We will be with you, Harry," said Lupin, "You won't be alone."

Harry looked at his mother, basking in her gaze once more.

"Stay close to me," he said quietly, the tremble gone from his voice at last.

And so he went forward, to face the greatest evil his world knew, surrounded by four forces of love that moved his world, made it turn.

They walked forward, through a dementor's chill, but it didn't overcome him, it didn't even slow him. His companions acted as if they were Patronuses to him, and together the five of them marched forward, ever onward to his beckoning death. Beside him walked James, Sirius, Lupin and Lily. And they were his courage, they were his strength. They helped to fill him with the faces and voices and the feel of those he loved enough to die for. Those people he would save. This sacrifice was no greater than the ones made for him. In fact, it seemed so much smaller in comparison.

Harry made his way in silence, as if being led by the hand, to the place where he would lay down his life. There, in the clearing just ahead, was a light. He hesitated for just a moment, eyes casting around to the faces around him. All he saw were smiles of encouragement, pride, and love. There was so much love in their faces, it was palpable in the air, or so it seemed to Harry.

One more deep breath and he took the next willing step as the sacrificial lamb, towards hate and evil as pure as if it was distilled. But he was strengthened by love and goodness in the forms of his hazy companions.

Voldemort stood apart from the rest, the feature that drew every eye in the clearing. He stood still and quiet, his snakelike face unreadable in the flickering light of fire.

"I thought he would come," said Voldemort, the eerie whispering voice filling the air of the clearing, "I expected him to come."

No one so much as breathed heavily, it seemed to Harry. They all seemed to be as afraid as he was. By now his heart was thundering in his chest, it seemed like a miracle that no one else could hear it, as it threw itself against his ribs, trying to flee the body that was about to be laid at the altar. Harry stuffed his wand deep in his clothing. He didn't want to be tempted to fight; he needed to see this to the end.

"It would seem as though I were…mistaken," said Voldemort.

"You weren't."

Harry said it as loudly as he could, with all the force he could dredge from his soul. He did not want to seem afraid to these people. He used all the strength lent to him by his parents to take a step forward, letting the Resurrection Stone slip from between his numb fingers to land in the grass, and he watched his parents, Sirius and Remus flicker out from the corner of his eyes.

Now there was nothing but conviction. There was no one but Voldemort.

The silence lasted for but a moment before it was rent by the yells and jeers of the Death Eaters and Hagrid's terrified yells as he tried to stop Harry from completing his task.

Harry spared him a glance, and a smile, trying to wipe the terror from the face that brought him to this magical world. His eyes found Voldemort once more, and there they stayed. Steady and unwavering in the face of his most true enemy.

Harry could feel his wand against his chest, vibrating with each pound of his heart. But he didn't draw it. He stood, tall and proud, calm and quiet in the face of his end. And still, Harry and Voldemort looked at one another.

Voldemort tilted his head to the side by a fraction, and seemed to be considering the boy in front of him.

"Harry Potter," he said in his whispering voice, softly enough where one might mistake it as part of the spitting fire. "The Boy Who Lived."

No one moved. The Death Eaters were frozen, waiting. Everyone and everything seemed to be holding its breath, waiting.

Harry's mind was flooded with images, spinning wildly out of control, faces he loved, voices he treasured, moments that gave him strength. _Hermione, Ron, Ginny, Sirius, Luna, Neville, Lupin, Tonks, Mad-Eye, Mr. Weasley, Mrs. Weasley, Bill, Charlie, Fred, George, Percy, James, Lily, Hagrid, McGonagall, Dumbledore… _ His mind dug deep, listing every face and name that made his heart swell with love, until he felt like every atom of his entire existence was vibrating with it. Clinging to the memories of Ginny's kiss, Hermione's hug, Ron's steady hand, Fred and George's laughter, Hagrid's smile, Sirius' voice, Lupin's steady presence, Harry straightened his body so he stood tall, and somehow he found his muscles relaxing for a moment. He was in good company in his own mind.

Voldemort raised his wand, head still tilted as though he were nothing more than a curious child, waiting to see what would happen next. Harry looked steadily back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen, now. Quickly! While he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed his fear, before he wept at the loss of his future, before he raced back to the people who loved him, before he surrendered their futures.

He saw the mouth move, he heard Voldemort's voice as it hissed out the two words that both started and would finish this all.

There was a flash of green light, and then everything was nothing.


End file.
